


Worst Half Hour Ever

by ironmansassistant



Series: Supernatural One-Shots [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmansassistant/pseuds/ironmansassistant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine being on a hunt with Sam and Dean but you are hit by a witch’s spell and forget all about Sam, your boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst Half Hour Ever

You sat at the small table that came with your motel room and stared at Dean, waiting for him to explain what was happening. He was worried, you could tell, but he hadn’t actually said why. He talked on the phone for a few minutes after you were hit with a blast of smoke from a witch right before Dean’s bullet had gone through their heart. You and him had gone to the house for a little reconnaissance and gotten taken by surprise—still, you’d thought it had ended well for yourselves. Both of you were alive, and all you’d gotten from the smoke was a bit of a cough and a bump on the head from your fall.  
But still, Dean kept rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin and paced around the room. Tired of it, you stood. “That’s it, I’m taking a shower and praying that you’ll be normal when I get out.”  
“No,” he shouted, stepping between you and the bathroom door. “I mean…just wait until Sam’s here.”  
You furrowed your brow. “Who?”  
“Sam!” Dean replied. “My brother, our hunting partner. C’mon, Y/N, you gotta know Sam. You two were—you know Sam!”  
You shrugged. “I think we should call Bobby and have him look into witch spells that involve smoke—you got hit, dude.”  
“Me?” Dean threw his hands in the air when the Impala’s engine rumbled outside. “Look, just humour me.”  
You crossed your arms but nodded. “All right, fine.” It was only five seconds after that when the door burst open and a tall man rushed in. His long hair curled behind his ears and his eyes were frantic until they fell on you, and relief washed over his features. You took a step back, confused but not attacking—after all, Dean hadn’t moved yet and if there was danger you knew he would be first to react.  
The man wrapped his arms around you, pressed a hand to the back of your head and buried you against his chest. He mumbled against your hair, “You’re okay, you’re okay.” He pulled back. “Dean said…you’re okay, right?” His eyes dragged down and up your body, hands firmly planted on your shoulders.  
“Well this was a fun meet-cute, but I think I’m done,” you stated, pushing the mans hands away from you. His brow furrowed but he didn’t push.  
“I tried to warn you,” Dean said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “They don’t remember you, Sammy. That witch did something.”  
“Remember who?” you questioned.  
“Me,” the man said. “You don’t remember me?”  
You looked at him, taking in the plaid shirt and heavy coat, the way his green eyes felt like a thousand pounds on your chest. Something pinched at the back of your head when he looked so hurt.  
“I’m sorry,” you blurted, “I just…Sam, was it?”  
He gave you a weak nod.   
“Here, just sit back down,” Dean instructed. You did as you were told, and Sam sat across from you. “Maybe talking will bring something back. I’m gonna call Bobby and see what he’s got.” He hesitated before leaving the room, already dialling before his hand touched the doorknob.   
And just like that, you were left alone with Sam.  
“You don’t remember anything?” Sam asked. “How we met, when you joined me and Dean hunting, our first—nothing?”  
You shook your head. You looked at Dean outside, leaning against the Impala and glancing at you every few seconds. Thinking back on all the hunts you’d gone on with Dean, there were certain holes you couldn’t fill. You remembered being in a house with a particularly nasty ghost that had Dean knocked out—you were going to shoot it with rock-salt when it burst into flames and went wherever ghosts go. Not long after that your phone rang and when you answered it was…pain split through the back of your head. “Ah.”  
“What is it?” Sam asked. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” you answered. “I hit my head—still a little sore.” You rubbed at the growing bump. “Uh, how exactly did we meet?”  
The sad smile Sam gave you made your heart rip apart, and that same pain ran from the back of your head and down your spine. This time you managed not to flinch.  
“We uh,” Sam began, “met on a hunt. Do you remember J.J. Worthington?”  
“My friends dad,” you replied, “yeah he died a year ago in a car accident. Dean thought he had come back to kill the guy that sabotaged…his car. You were there too, weren’t you?”  
“He pulled you into the same river he crashed into,” Sam went on, “by the time Dean burned the bones you were already unconscious. I got you out of the river and performed CPR—you don’t remember any of this?”  
You thought hard. You could remember drowning, the way the water felt filling your lungs but after that everything was dark. “There was a really bright streetlight,” you recalled, “when I came too that was all I could see for…until…”  
Sam leaned forward expectantly as you recalled seeing him in above you. The light had blinded you until Sam’s face came into view, blurry and wet, water had dripped from the tip of his nose and onto your cheek. His mouth moved as he spoke but you hadn’t heard whatever he said. You could remember the way his fingers were warm against your face. But when Sam’s chair squeaked and drew you back to the present the memory faded. “I uh, I think I need to lay down.”   
You tried to stand but as you took your first step your knees gave out. Before you could hit the ground Sam’s arms were wrapped around you and bringing you safely back to your feet. He kept you there, ensuring you didn’t even waver.  
Your memories were fractured. After remembering Sam saving you from the river other pieces began to come back. You could see him at the funeral in a suit, but something about his presence there felt wrong. You could see him sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala while you sat in the back, but you could also remember it being empty. Why did Dean always make you sit in the back when it was just you two? You rubbed your temples, more and more coming back and going away just as quickly.  
Moving you to the bed, Sam sat you down. He knelt in front of you one hand on your cheek with the other on your arm. “Hey, Y/N, don’t try to remember anything too soon. It’s okay, we’ll figure this out.”  
You tried to reply when the front door opened and Dean came back in.  
“Anything?” Sam asked him.   
Dean grinned. “Kiss ‘em.”  
“What?” you and Sam said at the same time.  
“Bobby said you gotta kiss them—breaks the spell.”  
“You can’t actually be suggesting—” you began when Sam grabbed your head and pressed his lips against yours. It was rough at first but soon softened, and his grip didn’t lighten as the kiss deepened.  
Without thinking your own hands raised to gently hold Sam’s face. His lips were soft and familiar, something about them just fit perfectly against your own. When Sam pulled away first you pulled him back for another kiss, and the image of him leaning over you by the river came back clearer than ever.  
Sam holding your hand as you pretended to be a couple interested in a haunted apartment, Sam offering to take the couch in that apartment so you weren’t uncomfortable sleeping in the same bed as him, Sam finally crawling into bed with you after you tell him for the hundredth time it was okay. Everything came back—how slowly you’d fallen in love with everything he did—the way he would just run his hands though his hair to “brush” it, the way he insisted Dean let you try driving the Impala because you constantly asked. The way he had smiled when you told him how you felt after seven months of hunting together.  
“Sam!” you cried. You wrapped your arms around him and he did the same to you.  
“You remember?” he asked.   
“Worst half hour of my life,” you replied with a chuckle. You looked up at Dean and nodded as he raised his phone to his ear.  
“Yeah, Bobby,” he said, “it worked…Yeah, we’ll see you soon.”  
Your grip on Sam tightened. “I can’t believe it only took a kiss.”  
Sam held you even tighter, taking your breath away more than the kisses had. He gave a small laugh. He didn’t say anything though, and only made sure to keep you where you were.  
After Dean hung up the phone he joked, “I wish all our problems could be solved like this.”


End file.
